


The Whore of La Gemma Appannato

by SweetHoney1085



Series: The Evolution of Terre D'Ange [2]
Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-04-28 09:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5085868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetHoney1085/pseuds/SweetHoney1085
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shannyn Perrin has lived in Eisnade all her life. She is half Caerdicci by birth, but she never knew her father. Her stepfather wants to give her away in marriage to an older noble man who will raise his social standing, but this union goes against Blessed Elua's precept. </p><p>Shannyn flees her home, and runs away to her Father's land of Caerdicca Unitas, where she becomes a common whore at the brothel La Gemma Appannato. But can she still find love, even against all odds?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Inauspicious Beginning

One:

I have always loved Elua with all my heart. I was raised in the province of Eisande, near the city of Marsilikos. When I was a young girl, my mother would take my into the city at times to see the Lady of Marsilikos as she walked amongst the people, bestowing her blessings upon us. She touched the top of my head twice, and my hand at least 3 times, over the years. Though I doubt she would know me now.

I am Shannyn Perrin, and this is the story of how I became a whore in Caerdicca Unitas. 

My story is not a common one, most D’Angelines are free to choose who they wish to love, as it is Blessed Elua’s precept: Love as thou wilt. I suppose that if I had found love at a tender age, none of this might have come to pass at all. My mother would have indulged me, no doubt, no matter what her husband said. My father had died in when I was but a babe in arms, and the man she chose to wed was no father of mine. He was a shallow man, with his eyes always on the next rung up the ladder. A small time merchant, his stock rose considerably once he married my mother, a woman of no small means. But he was obsessed with status, and he wanted nothing more than to increase his stature and wealth by marrying me off to the highest bidder. 

I would have far preferred to have gone to the Court of the Night Blooming Flowers, in the City of Elua, to try my luck as a courtesan, but I knew without being told that I would never be received there. For while I had the beauty of a D’Angeline, that is true, my father was Caerdicci, and I am considered a half-breed to those who make their living as true servants of Naamah. 

I had the honeyed skin of someone from Caerdicca Unitas, though I was blessed with my mother’s yellow hair, I had also my father’s eyes, which are brown and always dreaming. My face was somewhat too angular for me to find my fortune at court, my half Caerdicci lineage was obvious to anyone who took a second glance at me. 

And so, when Maslin Vral, my mother’s husband, told me at the age of 15 that it was time for me to begin seeking a husband, it is fair to say I balked at the idea. I had been raised fairly sheltered, there were not many families that lived nearby with children the same age as myself. I knew of only one boy who was even close to my age, and he was 6 years my senior. And so, I was less experienced that most D’Angeline children at that point. Many are used to playing the game of courtship, which begins at an early age and transforms into something more earnest once one enters their teenage years.

All this I have learned in my time as an adult, of course. As I said I was rather sheltered as a young girl and knew not these things at the time. I only knew that Lord Vral intended to marry me off to some Lord of the House of Baphinol, one of the noble houses of Eisande. 

I had assurances from my mother that I need not marry Lord Bertrand Baphinol if I found him too displeasing, but I still feared even meeting him.

When we arrived at his chateau for dinner, my worst fears were confirmed. Lord Baphinol was in his mid 40’s, at least. His hair was thinning, and while I’m sure that he was quite handsome when he was younger, those years were long past him now. He had a slight paunch, and his cheeks were beginning to sag into jowls already. His breath was hot on my cheek as he kissed it, and he smelled of goat’s milk. 

I had been clothed in my finest dress that night, a fine gossamer thing of peach and pale blue, with seed pearls dancing along the skirt. My mother had done my hair, putting it up in pins for the first time. This was to be my debut, of sorts, she told me, as I was a lady now. 

“Soon,” she told me, “you shall be the Lady of your own house. And what a fine house it shall be!”

We walked through the large, cavernous corridors of the Chateau Baphinol. There were paintings, and tapestries, candles burning everywhere to try and give off a more comfortable ambiance. But I was far from home, and I knew it. 

Lord Baphinol, or Bertrand as he requested I call him, was not unkind by any stretch. Indeed, I might have found a better life for myself there than in my mother’s home, where Maslin would pepper his conversations with insults about the Caerdicci, and the “Half-Blooded” D’Angelines that now filled our country. It’s true, in the years since the Straights opened up, we have had many Albans come to Terre D’Ange, we have had immigrants also from Skaldia, Helas, and yes, Caerdicca Unitas. So, while it is true that I yearned to leave the Vral household, I was in no rush yet to set up my own. 

We stayed in his chateau that evening, it was too far of a distance to travel there and home in one day. And so we feasted on the many delicacies that Bertrand had prepared for us, much to my stepfather’s delight. I, on the other hand, could scarcely eat a bite. I had no desire to be tire to an old man for the rest of my life. I was young yet, and had my entire life before me to find love. 

My stepfather got quite drunk on Bertrand’s wine that night, as he was wont to do. At least we were far from home, and so I knew he would keep his words and temper to himself, though that was not always the case when we were far from the prying eyes of the outside world. 

That night, as I laid in the large, comfortable bed that Bertrand had given me for the night, I prayed to Blessed Elua with all of my heart, that he might give me some means of escape, that I might not be bound to this old, though kind, man, as I did not love him.

I dreamed that night, and in my dream I was walking by a canal in a city I had never seen before. I bore no marque upon my back, but I knew in the dream that I was a courtesan. I could smell the salt in the air, and equated it to the salt that beaded a man’s flesh as he gave himself over to passion. There were voices all around me, speaking in a tongue that I had never heard before, and yet it made perfect sense to me.  
“Come…” they seemed to be calling, “come home”.


	2. To La Serenissima

The answer to my prayers came well before I expected it. We had been home a scant two weeks before a missive came from my Aunt in La Serenissima, a woman I had never met before. 

My mother told me that she was a priestess of Asherat-of-the-Sea, and lived within the convent walls. My aunt, Vesperia Dandi, had heard of my recent natality (though I’m still not sure by what channels), and had requested that I come for a visit in the country of my father. 

My mother was understandable uneasy about the invitation, but her husband thought it would be good for me, “Travel will broaden her mind Gemma, and think of how much Lord Baphinol will want her once she’s more than just some country bumpkin!” 

My mother conceded to Maslin’s wishes, as she always did. I was packed up and shipped off within the week, and I quickly found myself in a new country, hearing a language I had only heard before in my dreams.   
“Benvenuto nipote!” My aunt exclaimed upon my arrival at the temple. She was clad as the other priestesses were, in a lovely blue dress, with a silver veil before her face. She took me to her private quarters, with were austere, but still warm and welcoming. We sat on a long wooden bench before a roaring fire, and drank wine while eating cheese and fruit. 

“It is so good to finally have you here, caro,” she said to me, lifting the veil from her face, and allowing me for the first time to see her features. I was awash with a feeling I can only describe as familial. Her face was angular, as was mine, and her eyes were the same warm molasses brown as my own. My mother’s eyes were green like the spring grass, and Maslin’s were blue. I was unaccustomed to seeing anyone who bore even a passing resemblance to myself, and I would be lying to say that this feeling was unwelcome. 

“Hello Aunt,” I said, offering her a slight curtsy.

“We have no need for such formalities here caro, give me a hug!” and with that she wrapped her long willowy arms around my body. In contrast to the dank, musty smell of the canals, my Aunt Vesperia smelled of cinnamon and cloves. I later came to learn that those were the incense usually burned in the Temple of Asherat-of-the-Sea, but I always associated it with my aunt, nonetheless. 

We retired to her quarters within the confines of the Temple. They were small, my aunt said apologetically, but to me they were a thing of opulence. There were large fishing nets strung from the ceiling, a mirror made of actual reflecting glass, rather than the one of polished brass we had at home. Her bedding was teal blue silk, embroidered all over with golden thread. She had a small round table, with a single chair seated next to it. There was a bowl on the table, overflowing with grapes, and figs and other fruits. 

“There’s a trundle bed under the master,” my aunt informed me as she set my belongings down by her bookshelf. 

I pulled the trundle bed out from under the master, and sat down on it, exhausted from my travels. The mattress was slightly lumpy, and I could already tell that the blanket was thin, but it mattered not to me, I was just so very happy to be in a new city, in a new land, and with new people. To be with my father’s kin, who I had never met before, was so wonderful.

That night, my Aunt Vesperia told me all about my father. My mother had been reluctant to tell me stories about him when I was younger, as Maslin had not been over fond of hearing about my mother’s past.  
“Cristiano,” she said, her shoulders shaking as she laughed, “he convinced the butcher that his pig had run away, and that he had no idea where it had went, but the second he brought it back home, Madre marched him right back to the macelleria, and returned the swine. 

‘I’ll not have two pigs living in my house!’ she scolded him so harshly!”

I laughed heartily at the story as well, “It sounds like the time I found a wounded hare on the moors, and brought it home to try and nurse it,” I told her.

“And what came of this little hare?”

“…Oh…Maslin, my mother’s husband, he killed it and my mother cooked it into a stew for dinner.”

My aunt grew quiet for a moment, and then she asked me, “Has your mother ever told you the story of how she and your father met?”

I shook my head.

“Your mother was a member of the D’Angeline Royal Family’s retinue. Queen Sidone and King Imriel were on progressus regalis, and were staying in the Little Court. Cris and I had gone to see their arrival, and he and Gemma first saw one another from across the canal. He was two years my junior, and I remember him elbowing me sharply in the ribs. He was so excited to see her, your mother was very beautiful when she was younger.

He was only fifteen years old at the time, but was quite smitten immediately, and I dare say that Gemma was too. Of course, my parents wouldn’t see their son with a D’Angeline girl, no matter her station. They saw my brother, their heir, marrying a good Caerdicci girl, and raising his children here in the City, while also managing the family’s oil azienda, where we have made live oil for generations. 

It has always been known that I would take my vows with Asherat-of-the-Sea, but our parents had such dreams for Cris…” she trailed off, lost in thought. I sat quietly, giving her time to come back to the present.  
“Cris wouldn’t be swayed though,” she said, with a small chuckle, “he had found his vero amore, and he would not be separated from her. When the progressus left, Cristiano went with them.

We received word when your parents were married, then again when you were born. The last letter we received was when Cris died, your mother wanted to let us know.”

I was in awe hearing this story. It was like something from one of the tales of old that I had heard tell about when we visited the Temple of Elua in Eisande, some kind of fairy tale romance like what the King and Queen had. It was difficult to reconcile this image of my mother, young and blonde with spring green eyes, a member of the Queen’s own inner circle, falling in love with my father, a young Caerdicci nobleman, and the two of them running off together. I knew that my mother’s stock had fallen some once she had wed my father, for while D’Angelines do believe in love above all things, they are a rather inclusive people, and do not like mixing their angelic blood with that of mere mortals. 

But it was a beautiful story, and I thanked my aunt for telling it to me. We ate figs with vinegar, and grapes with honey and cheese. There were olives for us to eat as well, salty and briny things that popped in my mouth with an abundance of flavor I had never experienced before. 

When it was time for bed, I laid on my trundle, and closed my eyes. I had been right, the mattress was lumpy and the blanket thin. But the air in La Serenissima was warm, and I had little need of the covering. The sound of the gulls, combining with the gentle sound of water flowing through the city eventually lulled my into a deep, comfortable sleep.


	3. A Plea and Flight

My days at the Temple of Asherat-of-the-Sea were some of the best of my life. I went to services with my Aunt, and found great comfort in the structure of their worship. In Terre D’Ange, we may go to Temple and pray as we please, one might even set up a session where we seek counsel from a priest or priestess, but there are no services, be they daily or weekly. The respect paid to the patron goddess of the city, though, was done in a way I had never seen before. 

Within the Main Hall of the Temple was a bethel, and in that bethel there were several rows of long benches, which my Aunt Vesperia called “pews”. Those that came to worship would sit in the pews and await the Head Priestess of Asherat-of-the-Sea. This was not the Oracle, mind you, who also made her appearances, but rather a different station of equal regard. Every morning, the High Priestess would stand on a podium at the front of the room, and would preach to her congregation. 

Her sermons were always different, and I always found much to reap from the words she spoke. On one occasion, she spoke of Asherat’s son, Eshmun, and how she had wept and howled like an ocean squall when Baal-Jupiter slew him. The Priestess, Bianca Namot, went on to describe Asherat’s grief at the loss of her son, and she urged us to not take those we loved for granted, as we never knew when they might be taken from us. On another day, Bianca preached honesty and piety. She told us the story of the Bella Donna, who had profaned the Temple of Asherat with the traitorous notions she plotted against the country of her birth. The Bella Donna had almost singlehandedly brought down the Oracle of Asherat-of-the-Sea, and we were cautioned to remain vigilant against false prophets, and others who sought to turn us from a righteous path. 

Having been raised in near isolation in the country outside of Eisande, I was not used to so much faith and doctrine, but it spoke to my soul in a way nothing had before. As I’ve said, had I been given the choice, I would have cast my lots with the Night Court, or mayhap even as a Priestess of Naamah or Elua myself, but the Night Court would not have me, and Maslin would sell my maidenhead to the nearest man of stature before he would ever let me give myself away for free, in the name of something as trifling as faith. 

I had been in La Serenissima for about three weeks when my mother’s letter came. It was time to come home, she informed me, Maslin had finalized marriage arrangements with Lord Baphinol, and my presence was required immediately, that we might have the ceremony and complete the marriage contract. 

In a fit of despair, I tore the letter to shreds, and before I even knew what was happening, I was running out to the canal and throwing the tattered remains of her missive into the water. I sank to the ground, unsure of how to proceed. In my heart, I didn’t want to marry Lord Baphinol, but that mattered naught to my mother, and it mattered even less to Maslin, who saw me only as a card he might play, to enhance his own stature and wealth. Yet, I knew that if I returned home, I would be forced into this marriage, no matter what blasphemy this might seem to Elua. 

In a moment, an idea sprang forth, giving me hope. I rose and ran back to the Temple, anxious to speak with my aunt about my hopes.

Aunt Vesperia was sitting inside, reading from a small book. I knelt at her feet, abeyante. When I looked up at her, she was staring at me with a confused look on her face.

“Caro, whyever are you on the floor?”

“I have somewhat I must ask you Aunt.”

She waited for me to continue.

“I wish to take the veil of Asherat-of-the-Sea. I wish to serve Her, as you have. If you would, I petition you to speak with your High Priestess, and ask her that I may be granted admittance to your order.”  
With those words to serve as my beginning, I told Aunt Vesperia my entire tale. I held nothing back from her, sharing even about Maslin’s propensity towards violent outbursts. I told her about the arranged marriage I had waiting for me back home, and that I could see no other alternative.

“Can you not take your vows at the Temple of Naamah, back home in Terre D’Ange?”

I shook my head sadly, “no, unlike the followers of Asherat, Priestesses of Naamah do not begin their training until after they have served Her in the Night Court.”

My aunt knew little enough about the Night Court, and Naamah’s Servants, so I explained them both to her, as well as the path to priesthood in Terre D’Ange.

“In the City of Elua, we have a district known as the Court of the Night Blooming Flowers, and therein lies Thirteen Pleasure Houses. Each House has a different specialty, or canon. In Bryony, for example, the canon was Wealth. Mandrake specializes in patrons who want to dominate their partner, while Valerian is for patron who wish to be dominated. 

In much the same way, the Gentian House has the canon of Mysticism, and the motto ‘Truth and Vision’. These adepts are trained in the arts of pleasure, yes, but also they are taught about the mysteries of the mind and soul. They believe that when Naamah slept with the king of Persis, she was filled with a mystic purity of spirit. 

It is the adepts of Gentian who go on to become Priestess of Naamah, and Elua as well. One must receive the training the Night Court offers, if they are to abide the Year of Joy.”

“And what is the year of joy?”

“During The Year of Joy, a Priestess of Naamah must live as She did, and may not turn away any petitioner who comes seeking his or her favors out of pure and genuine desire.”

My aunt’s face looked horrified at the thought, and I was reminded that the Caerdicci prize a woman’s maidenhead very highly, and that many of those who took the veil were vestal virgins. 

“That is why I cannot be a priestess,” I hastened to explain, “For I haven’t the proper training. And I couldn’t go to the Night Court even if I thought my mother or Maslin would allow it.”

“And…why is that?” She looked reluctant to ask the question, but was curious enough to push past her discomfort.

“Because,” I answered with a sigh, “Well, two reasons actually. Firstly, is that I’m too old. Adepts start their training at thirteen, and take their vows at sixteen. I am fifteen, and so I would not be accepted as I’m far too old. And secondly, I’m half Caerdicci. The D’Angelines have their tastes, and I am not it.” 

There was no more to say to it than that. My aunt, for her part, looked relieved that signing up for the Night Court was not within my purview, and so I repeated my request, “Please, Zia, ask you oracle on my behalf, that I might avoid this marriage, and escape Maslin’s walls.”

Her face fell, and with that one expression my hopes faded. 

“Mi dispiace caro, but it cannot be. Ever since the Bella Donna deceived the Temple of Asherat-of-the-Sea, we have admitted no one from outside of Caerdicca Unitas’ borders. The Oracle does not trust D’Angelines, and would never consent to you joining our number.”

My mouth fell open, but I couldn’t get a sound out. This had been my last prospect, and I had no idea what I was going to do now. I rose to my feet, and ran from her room as fast as my feet would carry me. 

“Shannyn!” I heard her calling behind me, “Wait! Come back!”

But I was gone, out the Temple doors and running down the street in a blind dash. I had no idea where I was going, but I knew that I needed to get away from here, and from everything that I knew.


	4. The Little Court

Before long, I found myself in a part of the city that I was unfamiliar with. A cursory review of my surroundings told me that I had run through The Square, which was the merchant quadrant of the city located right next to the Temple, but instead was in a much higher class of neighborhood now that I had been before. The buildings here were nicer, and the people more beautiful. It took me very little time at all to realize that I had found myself in The Little Court, the D’Angeline district of La Serenissima. 

All around me I heard my native tongue being spoken, and the pricks I felt in my heart told me of how much I had missed home without even realizing it. As familiar my Aunt Vesprria’s face had looked to me upon my arrival in La Serenissima, so now looked the faces of my countrymen and women surrounding me. The fashions and the hairstyles were quite different from those in Eisande, but how close were they to the styles of the day in the City of Elua, I wondered. I had no way of knowing of course, but I was fascinated by the gaudy clothes they wore. The women wore dresses of spun silk and satin that shimmered in colors that I had only seen in nature before, brilliant blues and greens and saffrons, all worked with delicate embroidery, or hand-done lace, or seed pearls that had been intricately stitched across the bust, or over the skirts. The men wore doublets and tunics made from velvet of the darkest shades of gem, deep blues and hunter green, blood red, and they were lined with brocade, or else stitched with golden or silver thread. Many of the women wore hats, with feathers sticking out of the tops, and I noticed that they showed rather less skin here in La Serenissima. Their sleeves dropped longer, and their bosoms were covered with lace or gauze, hiding their décolletage from sensitive Caerdicci eyes. 

I myself was dressed like a common wench, hardly fit to be in the entry of the Little Court. And indeed, it took scarcely a moment before I noticed the eyebrows cocking in my direction, and the whispered stares that accompanied them. I flushed to the tips of my ears, and focused my attention momentarily on the ground. 

It was the small that got my attention. The delightful smell of roasted pheasant, spices crusted on the blackened skin, and savory juices flowing throughout the flesh. I hadn’t noticed until that moment how hungry I was, nor how bored I had become of Caerdicci foods. While three weeks ago they had seems exotic and new, I found that I missed the familiar tastes of the D’Angeline foods, over seasoned as they may be betimes. My nose followed the smell of roasted fowl and my feet tried to keep up. It didn’t take me long to find the source, a small wooden establishment with a large window to serve the public from. I made my way up to the window and enquired about the pheasant.

“It’ll be three silver pieces for a plate,” the serving girl at the window informed me.

Fishing through my skirts and realizing I had neither pockets nor a purse, I stepped back from the establishment dejectedly. A low growl in the pit of my stomach told me I was going to need to find something to eat though, and soon. 

“May I take 2 orders sil vous plait?” I heard a voice from behind me say.

I turned and saw an attractive Caerdicci man walking up to me alone. He was quite a bit taller than me, but as I’m fairly short that isn’t a difficult feat. His dark brown hair was cut short and it curled slightly around his ears. His eyes were darker than mine, almost as dark as a Cruinthe. 

“Mademoiselle,” he said, offering me one of the two plates.

“Thank you, messire, but I’m sure I can’t accept your charity,” I demurred with a curtsy.

“Charity?” he laughed, “hardly! I feel blessed to have the opportunity to feed one so beautiful as yourself, and grateful for an excuse to make your acquaintance.”

I blushed furiously at this, I was unaccustomed to being flirted with. 

“My..my..my lord is too kind,” I stammered out, bobbing into another curtsey, and accepting the plate he was still holding out to me. 

I was turning to leave, when his voice said softly in my ear, “ma chèr, you would not force me to dine alone, would you?”

I turned back to him, and managed a small smile, “no, my lord, of course I will not.”

The young man gave me his arm, and walked me to a set of small round tables nearby. They were cast from stone, and were decorated with chips of shell, glass, and other colored stones. A mosaic, he told me. 

We ate in silence for a time. I could tell that the stranger wanted to talk with me, but I was so famished that all I could do upon sitting was tear a leg off the pheasant, and stuff it into my mouth. The hot meat popped with flavor and spices, the skin was crisp and salty. I pulled the greasy meat from the bones with my fingers, too hungry for decorum, and greedily tucked in until my plate was cleared. Only then did he speak to me, though he’d been watching me all the while. 

“And what is your name, my pretty one?”

“I am Shannyn Perrin, of Terre D’Ange. And you?”

“I would be known as Lucius Pescaro, son of Ricciardo and Giulia Pescaro of Caerdicca Unitas,” he replied with a small laugh, “But please, chèr, call me Luc, as my friends do.”

“Well, Luc,” I said cautiously, “I much appreciate the food you have given me, but I am afraid I must be going, my aunt will be worried about me.”

It was a lie, of course. I had no intention of returning to the Temple of Asherat-of-the-Sea any time soon, as I knew my Aunt Vesperia would bundle me up and send me back home to my mother near as soon as I arrived. Still, something about the way Luc was looking at me made me uncomfortable. There was mirth in his eyes, and lust too of course. But there was also kindness, and an obvious desire to get to know me better. 

I felt as though all I had been doing as of late was running away, and yet I could not make myself stay put any longer. Luc looked surprised at my outburst, but he rose and gave me a slight bow, then kissed my hand, “Ma chèr, Lady Shannyn Perrin of Terre D’Ange. It has been my pleasure to meet you, and to be able to spend time basking in your loveliness. Pray tell me, when may I see you again?”

“Oh, my lord,” I blanched, “I… I’m not sure that will be possible. I am only on holiday visiting my aunt, and I fear I must return to my home ere long.”

He straightened, and flashed me a smile again, “Ah, well, mayhap it is not meant to be then. However, should you find yourself enjoying our fair City-State a little longer, please feel free to come to the Little Court to seek me out. I do so hope you path crosses mine again in the future.”

I blushed once more, thanked him again, and left the Little Court as the sun was beginning to sink beyond the horizon.


	5. La Gemma Appannato

With the lights dimming, and my general unfamiliarity with La Serenissima, I found myself lost in a much seedier part of town. The night air was rank with the smells of fetid water and rotting fish. There were small establishments all around, wooden and stone edifices with signs hanging outside. 

Men were skulking about in an ominous manner. Caerdicci to a one, and had a look about them that reminded me of a hungry dog. 

I was jostled by one man, who got close enough that I the odor of alcohol permeating off him obliterated the smells of the canal.

“Piccola cosa sexy, mi avrebbe messo in voi sgualrina D’Angeline.”

I spoke little enough Caerdicci, but I was able to catch his meaning, and I recoiled, drawing away from him as quickly as I was able. He laughed, and continued along his way. I saw few women on the streets, but the one I did see were not dressed like any La Serenissiman women I had seen. Far from the modesty of the Priestesses of Asherat, and more scintillating than the ladies of the Little Court, I finally came to understand that I was in the brothel district. 

I looked around fearfully, this was hardly the kind of neighborhood in which I wanted to find myself. The Caerdicci have a very different view of sexuality, and especially female sexuality, than we do in Terre D’Ange. Here, a woman was prized for her virtue about all things, and her virginity was a large part of that. While it is heresy against Blessed Elua to force oneself on another back home, I had no such protection here. 

Realizing that I had nowhere else to go at the moment though, as I had no funds and knew no one other than my Aunt here in the city, I decided to enter the nicest looking brothel I could find. 

La Gemma Appannato, the sign read. It was the only one with windows that I could see into, and the candles inside made it seem less threatening than the others, whose windows were darkened by drawn curtains. Hesitantly, I pushed the wooden door open, and entered the building. 

Inside of the brothel there were a couple of men walking around, libations of ale or wine in every hand. There were a few girls walking around as well, with their skirts a bit shorter and their necklines a little lower than those I had noticed around La Serenissima. I timidly asked one of them to point me towards the proprietor of this establishment, and she pointed to a man sitting at a corner table, drinking from a flagon. 

Slowly, I approached him. He didn’t seem an intimidating sort, with a round face and a body that suggested he’d not starved a day in his life. He had a large smile on his face, and by all appearances it was genuine. He was talking and laughing with the patrons, and smacked one lass on her hindquarters as she walked past him, glancing back with good humor. His hair was pitch black, and streaked with grey and white, but that was the only hint that gave away his age, for his face was unlined, and his dark eyes sparkled with a clarity that belied his years. There was a tuft of hair growing from his chin, black and grey in alternating streaks.

“Signore,” I began, sinking into a curtsy.

He turned his head and looked at me appraisingly. 

“D’Angeline?” he asked in accented D’Angeline.

“Aye, signore, half. On my mother’s side.”

“Humph.” His eyes took me in from head to toe, taking my complete measure, “and what can I do for you D’Angeline? We don’t service women here.”

I hesitated, what did I want? Refuge for the night, mayhap; a warm pillow upon which to lay me head. No, what good would that do me, come morning? Like a flash, the idea came to me. I leaned forward slightly, and twisted my mouth into a smirk.

“You could hire me for starters, m’lord.” 

The man quirked his eyebrow, and in truth I was shocked at my own audacity. I had no idea from whence those words had come, and half wished I could snatch them out of the air and shove them back into my mouth. But words, once spoken cannot be recanted, and besides, it was not like I had any other options at present.

“Hire you? As what?”

“As a courtesan, of course,” I spoke with far more confidence than I had.

He waved his hand behind him, “I have plenty of girls. Not a one is a ‘courtesan’ round here, but what do I need you for? Tiny wisp of a thing.”

I pondered for a moment, what kind of answer could I give that would sway him into employing me. Rapidly, I opened my mouth with the first lie I could think of.

“Because, m’lord, I am Night Court trained.”

That appeared to catch his attention. He took another swig off his flagon and stood up, circling me. 

“Night Court, eh? What house you come from?”

“Orchis, sire.”

“You marqued?”

“No. I….I was trained there, m’lord, but I decided not to take my vows. I wanted to travel, and to find adventure.” The lie sounded good to my ears. 

I could be this girl, I thought, I could become Shannyn, an adept of Orchis House, who chose to go out into the world seek my fortune. 

I realized that should I chose this path, there would be no going back, and there could be no half-measures. I would need to commit fully to my new identity, and see where it took me. I squared my shoulders, cocked my hip, and inclined me head. 

“And who are you m’lord?”

“I am Signore Domenico Castelano. And I still don’t know why I’d hire some untried D’Angeline cast off into my house. I have a reputation about these parts. My girls are top quality, don’t cry while they’re being stuffed. You’ve no experience even, if you’ve not gained an inch on your back.”

Seeing the surprised look on my face, his eyes gleamed with intelligence, and he smiled knowingly, “I know a thing or two about your people D’Angeline. I know that you’re trained in the theory of passion until you’ve made your vows to your whore goddess, and that’s when you get the practical lessons.”

Thinking as quickly as I could, I quirked a grin and made my reply, “ah, m’lord Castelano, you find yourself so familiar with our ways, yes? But then you must also know that within the Night Court, children of both sexes are reared together, and they often play…games amongst themselves. Has it never occurred to you that betimes those games may go too far, and an adept’s innocence may be lost? What Dowayne, I ask you, would raise such a pupil up to the rank of courtesan? What type of debut price could she be fit to make? No, m’lord, I was sent forth from my house for engaging in carnal pleasures with one of my fellow adepts. He too was sent forth, and I know naught what happened to him, but I have come to La Serenissima with the hope of starting a new life, and plying my skills for as long as I am able.” 

Stepping back, I curtseyed once more, “I beg of you Signore Castelano, grant me admittance to your establishment. Allow me to be a, a Gemma Appannato as well.”

Castelano sat for a moment, considering. He looked me over up and down more than once, and he stroked the hair at his chin. Finally, he nodded, and stood up, grabbing my firmly by the hand, and shaking it.

“Welcome to my home young one. It is true that I once had another D’Angeline girl here, when I was many years younger, and she too had been cast out of her house, under very similar circumstances. Before your time though, I’m sure. But, in her honor, I will accept you as one of my girls. Perhaps it is better that you come to us unfettered with the beginnings of a marque…and you look enough like a Caerdicci that I can pass you off as one when I chose. Yes, I believe this arrangement will work out very nicely.”

He started leading me through the house, which had a good many rooms, nearly as many as there had been at the Temple of Asherat. But rather that the doleful cries of Asherat-of-the-Sea calling out from La Dolorosa, or the rhythmic chanting of those veiled within, these rooms rang out with the noises of moaning, and panting. I could hear the unmistakable sound of bodies slamming together like a drum beating over and over again. I wanted to close my ears against the sound of so much naked eroticism, but I continued to act my part. 

“Have you lit a candle for yon boy back home?”

Elua, he did know about our culture! And no, thankfully I had never lit a candle to Eisheth, which would have opened the gates of life within my womb. 

“No, m’lord, I haven’t.”

“That’s good. We've no need of whelps getting underfoot round here. What is your name girl?” Castelano asked over his shoulder.

“Shannyn, m’lord. Shannyn nó Orchis.”

“Well, you’ll just be going by ‘Shannyn’ now, unless you want to make up some new name now. It’s your only chance, and I won’t ask you again.”

He opened a door at near the end of the corridor, and gestured for me to enter. It was a small room, painted a pale foamy green. The walls were sodden though, and the paint was peeling from several places on the walls. There was a small pallet on the floor that I assumed was supposed to be my bed; it was covered with a thick blue wool blanket, which was a mercy against these cold nights by the canal. There was also a small pillow on it. A chest with a couple drawers, one was missing, was against the wall, and there was also a small looking glass hanging by the door. There was a nightstand next to the bed, with a single candle atop it. There were no windows. 

“No, m’lord, I’ll be keeping my name. There’s no one gonna be looking for me, and I’m not one for pretending to be ought than I am. I am Shannyn.”

With that, I smiled at Signore Castelano, closed the door, and sank down onto my straw-filled pallet. I looked into my hands, and wondered what on earth I had just done.


End file.
